


Fragile Like Glass

by hazzarat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Missions Gone Wrong, Natasha Romanov Feels, SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzarat/pseuds/hazzarat
Summary: “I’ll be fine, Maria,” She murmurs into the fabric pulling against Maria’s shoulder. “What’s the worst that can happen, huh?” She tilts her head up to look Maria in the eye, smirk in place.“Don’t even say that,” Maria mutters, shaking her head. “You’re dangerous Romanoff, you know that?”Natasha leans up and kisses her.-An operation gone wrong leads Natasha and Maria to face some uncertainties.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	Fragile Like Glass

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Hayley Kiyoko's song 'Wanna Be Missed
> 
> -
> 
> Big, big thank you to my absolutely wonderful best friends and the betas of all of my newer fics! Check out their incredible works because without them these fics would never have reached anywhere near the standard they are now!
> 
> [steviesbucks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviesbucks) [showzen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/showzen)
> 
> ily both <3 <3

“Are you all set?” Says a voice from behind where Natasha is sorting through her weapons and uniform. There are guns spread out on the table in front her as well as holsters and knives. She runs her finger across a pistol before twirling a knife around her fingers. She doesn’t turn around - she doesn’t need to - just continues to tighten the straps on her tactical gear, the air around them filled with the faint sounds of fabric rustling and the clink of buckles being done.

“Your unit leaves in twenty,” Says the voice from behind her. “You all set?”

This time she does turn around, tucking the knife and the pistol into the holster on her thigh as she does so.

“You already know I am,” she says. “Why even bother asking?” Taking a step forward, she says with a grin, “Don’t you trust my judgement?”

The dark-haired woman in front of her raises an eyebrow in response as Natasha continues to slink towards her. She crosses the armoury towards her, feet making no sound as she walks.

“It’s not your judgement I’m worried about. I trust it as much as I trust mine,” Coming from Maria, she knows that it’s a compliment of the highest order. “But, I also happen to know how much of a bunch of reckless assholes the rest of your team is. I’d rather you were over-prepared than under.”

She stops directly in front of Maria and rests her hands gently on the taller woman’s waist; only the draw of dark brows and the small wrinkle between them is enough to show the worry in Maria’s face. Her hand dashes out to smooth away the crease before trailing down to rest on her girlfriend's jaw, desperate to take away some of her stress. 

Warm hands come to rest on her hips as she opens her mouth to speak, “What’s got you so worked up?” The hands on her hips tighten briefly before relaxing again. Natasha shakes her head slightly, “I’ve done this a million times before and so have you for that matter.”

Natasha feels rather than hears Maria sigh; the movement rocking them forward slightly. Natasha never sees her like this; Maria prides herself on being hard to crack (‘like a rock’ Clint often jokes).

Maria’s eyes flicker away from her gaze before coming back to rest on hers.”This doesn’t feel… right. Something’s going to happen. I can just-” Maria pulls one of her hands away from her and smoothes it over her hair, “I just feel it.” 

Natasha strokes the soft hair near the base of Maria’s head, as she continues, “I’ve got this pit in my stomach. It’s like, like...” She trails off angrily.

“Like what?”

Maria’s eyes shutter in response, a small sigh working its way past her lips.

“Something’s gonna go wrong. I know it but I… I don’t know why,” she says with an apologetic glance.

Natasha studies the woman in front of her; her usually tidy hair is coming out of its signature tight bun and the skin under her deep brown eyes is darker than it should be. There are more creases on her forehead and her lips are sore and chapped. 

“You’re tired.” Natasha states plainly. There’s no use beating around the bush with Maria. “No, fuck that. You’re exhausted. I know how much intel you had to gather for this and,” She raises a finger when Maria tries to interrupt her, “I know how much you need this to go well. Everything will be fine, you’re just stressed. I’ll be fine, the team will be fine.”

Natasha watches as Maria tries to not roll her eyes, “Of course I am, Nat. That’s what being Deputy Director gets you. Bags and sleepless nights.” 

Natasha grins widely, “Don’t lie, babe-you just like that you get to brag about it.” Her fingers are still toying with Maria’s hair so she undoes the tight bun and rakes her fingers through it.

This time Maria does roll her eyes, even as her shoulders relax at the careful touches. Voice dripping with exasperation, she says, “Yes, that’s it. I accepted this position for _bragging_ rights. Oh, how well you know me, dearest.”

She snorts at that and rests her head against her girlfriend’s shoulder. Maria’s arms automatically wrap around her, securing her tighter against her chest as one hand rubs gentle circles on her hip.

“I’ll be fine, Maria,” She murmurs into the fabric pulling against Maria’s shoulder. She gently rubs her back, mimicking Maria’s movements, wanting to do everything she can to relieve some of the tension that her girlfriend is feeling. Natasha knows how stressful her own job can be so the added responsibilities that come with being Fury’s right-hand woman don’t exactly make it a walk in the park. “What’s the worst that can happen, huh?” She tilts her head up to look Maria in the eye, smirk in place.

“Don’t even say that,” Maria mutters, shaking her head. “You’re dangerous Romanoff, you know that?”

Natasha leans up and kisses her.

-

“Shit!” 

“Focus, Agent Barton. Continue on with your mission before I get Agent Romanoff to kick some sense into you.”

“...Understood, Agent Hill.”

“Good.” Maria’s had it up to here with this stupid team and their incapability to do anything stealthily. Every time she thinks they’re fine they go and fuck it up again.

The team’s not that bad, not really; it’s being led by Natasha and Barton so it’s never going to be the worst. God help her, with the recruits lack of knowledge of how to handle field situations and Barton’s inappropriate timing, she’s walking on a thin line between complete serenity and first-degree murder.

She trusts Natasha to ensure the mission goes as smoothly as possible but in between training the new recruits and gathering intel, it’s all very frustrating.

Maria isn’t even in the field with them; she’s watching through a body cam and is directly linked to the comms that the team is using. It’s standard when doing training missions - two trained agents must supervise the team in the field and an agent above level 8 must supervise from the base. She’s stuck in the Ops Centre, surrounded by the glowing screens and other agents milling about. It’s a large room with a high ceiling but she still feels confined, knowing she can’t help physically.

Fury insists it’s for safety reasons but she doesn’t buy into it. Knowing him, he’s most likely punishing her for something she’s not even aware of doing.

These missions usually go the same: the trainees do their best to complete the mission with minimal assistance from agents on the field with them, Barton gets on her nerves, and Natasha goes about finishing whatever side mission she gets assigned with.

Right about now, Maria would give anything for this _fucking mission_ to be finished so that she can get the damn paperwork done so that she can go home, feed Natasha’s brat of a cat and go the _fuck_ to sleep.

Currently, that’s not looking like it’ll be any time soon; the recruits are a bunch of bumbling idiots. She can hear through the comms that even Barton, probably one of the most easy-going people that she’s had the pleasure of knowing, is starting to snap at them.

Honestly, the mission is so _simple_ even a blind tortoise could do it. Enter, secure the exits, retrieve the information and get the fuck out. It should take less than 20 minutes max. It’s, at best, a two-agent operation but the recruits need to be trained and this is the easiest way to do so.

Sitting back in her chair in the Ops Centre, Maria lets out a violent sigh as she continues to listen to the agents fumbling around down her comms. 

Maria can hear Barton hissing at the recruits down the comm line. “Goddamn it, Michaels! Focus up! Smith! What’s gotten into you?! We were meant to be out of here twenty-five minutes ago, goddamnit!”

Maria jolts out of her bored stupor at that. What was taking so long? She glances down at the monitor in front of her and her eyes widen at the time. Maria lets out a low groan and sinks further into her chair. Right now she doesn’t care that it's unprofessional- she just wants to go home.

“Agent Hill!” One of the younger Agents calls out to her.

Maria turns to look at him, eyebrow raised expectantly.

He answers the silent question. “Something’s happened.”

At that Maria switches back on, standing up quickly and pressing a finger to her comm, “Barton. Status update.”

She hears a muffled hissing and sounds of swearing in the background before she gets an answer, “Extraction needed, right about, shit!- now! Mission successful but we currently have a shiiiit ton of- ow!- fuckers shooting at us.”

Now when Maria listens carefully she can hear the sound of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off of metal and making the comm’s sound explode. There’s shouting and more shots fired. She can hear Clint yelling about taking cover, telling them to stay behind him.

Maria turns to the agents in the room with her, “Extraction needed. Now. Send it in.”

She lifts her hand back up to her comm, “Status report, Agent Romanoff.”

Silence.

“Status report, Agent Romanoff.” No answer comes from the comm line. Maria turns frantic eyes onto the bodycam footage on her screen. She can see the bullets, the smoke, and the fear rising in her threatens to spill over.

“Agent Romanoff, status report!” 

She launches herself at a keyboard, tapping frantically as she searches for the right camera. The one she’s searching for is black, the footage cut off. She slams her hand down on the work top, startling the other agents who are pretending as if they can’t feel the panic radiating off of her.

“Agent Romanoff. Respond to your comms-”

Then there’s an explosion. She can see the rubble and the smoke through the screen. 

“Fuck! Natasha! Natasha, answer your fucking comms, come _on_!”

It’s no use and she knows it. An agent passes her a file and she swipes it offhandedly before pressing her hand to her earpiece again.

“Barton! Where’s Agent Romanoff?” Maria’s hunched over a screen, hands near floating over the keyboard checking the different pieces of footage.

“I don’t know, Agent Hill. There was-, there was an explosion. I tried to get to her but there was too much smoke.” He sounds wrecked, voice hoarse and scratchy from inhaling the smoke. 

Maria turns away, voice cold and devoid of emotion as she says, “Eyes on Agent Romanoff. Find her. Extraction ETA twenty minutes.”

She can feel the cold press of fear tighten her chest, feels it trying to drag her down and make her drown. She shuts her eyes tight and closes off. She can’t think about what it could mean at the minute, can’t think of what could’ve happened-. She has to stay impartial, has to remain the leader.

She only allows terror to live deep under the surface. She has a job to do and a mission to save.

-

The Quinjet touches down an hour later. An hour that, for Maria, is filled with furious questions and equally furious answers. It’s full of worry hidden behind a scowl. No one gets in her way, no one even dares to breathe in her vicinity.

She knows she still looks as neat and presentable as always (she’d checked in a dark monitor screen) but she can only imagine what’s showing on her face. Even Fury had raised an eyebrow when she entered his office demanding answers. 

She’s standing on the landing pad with a team of SHIELD medics when the Quinjet finally - _finally_ \- lands. Hardly any information is passed on from the teams on board to the team at The Triskelion. Maria’s been worried; her sore, bitten fingertips can attest to that.

The hatch on the Quinjet opens and a group of harassed looking recruits and medics pour out. 

There’s someone on the stretcher the medics are pulling along with them; Maria cranes her head further and further for a sight of blood-red hair.

It isn’t Natasha on the stretcher. Maria’s shoulders immediately drop and her hands unclench.

Her shoulders tense straight back up. Mentally berating herself for thinking like that, she strides over towards the chaos, constantly looking for red.

She stalks over to the calmest looking recruit (which isn’t really saying much: she’s still squirming and her hands tap restlessly) and stands directly in front of them. 

“Care to explain what happened, Agent?” Her voice is hard and her eyes steely. She knows what a sight she makes; standing tall with her fists clenched behind her back and using what Natasha fondly calls her ‘Commander Voice’. Maria doesn’t care what it’s called as long as she gets some details right about _fucking_ now.

The young agent straightens up at her voice, looking Maria directly in the eyes. This one might have some potential, Maria thinks before putting her attention back onto the girl in front of her.

“Agent Macy Carlyle, Deputy Director. The enemy knew we were there. We attempted infiltration of the secured boiler room like the mission plan detailed and they- They were already there.” The agent took a deep breath. She’s clearly young, straight out of college and put into training. 

Carlyle continues, her stance widening ever so slightly, “We attempted to get out of there safely but they opened fire. Michaels was hit-.” Another deep breath,” He was hit pretty bad in the thigh but the medics said it should be fine.” 

Without breaking eye contact, Maria asks, “Was the mission compromised, Agent Carlyle?”

The younger agent merely tips her chin up, “No, Deputy Director. We completed the op and got everyone on our team out. We reached the evac point within the time span given.” 

Maria nods towards where the rest of Carlyle’s team is huddled, some looking shocked and some exhausted. “Thank you, Agent Carlyle. Ensure that you and the rest of your team keep their focus directly on your mission next time.” 

Carlyle dips her chin in response and slips back to her team who were watching on with wide eyes. Maria watches as they all immediately pounce on her, demanding to know what that had been about. She watches as Carlyle cracks a smile before turning away.

Rubbing her eyebrow, Maria surveys the now nearly empty landing pad. The injured have been sent to Medical to get stitched up and the evac team has headed on their way.

She heads off in search of a few familiar faces, content in the knowledge Natasha and Barton are fine knowing it would have been mentioned. She’s halfway across the landing pad when a thought hits her and she lets out a groan without thinking. The amount of paperwork she’s going to have to fill out for this fiasco would most likely kill her.

The groan unsettles a few Agents tidying away excess equipment and Maria almost groans again as their heads whip around to look at her. Almost.

She glares at them all until, one by one, they all look away. Satisfied with the reaction, she nods and heads off inside.

-

“-Tasha!”

Natasha frowns at the intrusive sound, her head lifting up to find the perpetrator.

It turns out to be Clint, head tilted and resting in his hand. He has a butterfly bandage above his eyebrow and a bust lip.

“Can I help you, Barton?” She returns after a moment's pause.

His eyebrows shoot up comically and she might have even let a laugh slip out if the matching cut on her lip and the bruising along her jaw wouldn’t have ached.

Clint's eyebrows are still trying to high-five the sky when he says, ”Can I help you? You’ve been glaring at that tile for five minutes.” He tilts his head towards the tile in question. There’s a slight chip in the corner.

“I’ve said your name, like, eight times, man! You were all zoned out. It was pretty creepy, Tash.” Clint's face is drawn with worry, but he’s leaning back in a way that shows he’s trying to hide it.

Natasha shakes her head, the fire-red curls escaping her ponytail falling down into her eyes. A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, “I’m fine. Honestly.”

When Clint continues to look unconvinced, she continues, “I’m _fine_ , Clint. It was barely a scratch. You know I’ve gotten busted up worse than this before.” 

Clint obviously doesn’t buy it. 

The truth is that Natasha’s fine-well, mostly. Physically, she could be worse; she’s only ended up with some burns on her hands and side and a faulty ankle. So what if the burns are secondary and the ankle is fractured. It isn’t _that_ bad.

Yes, she’s aware that this isn’t most people’s ideas of fine. But she’ll heal soon enough and Clint knows that. He’s seen her walk off gunshot wounds and with SHIELD’s tech, it’ll happen in no time. That’s what she hopes, anyway. The mission wasn’t even that bad, even when it went wrong. It was nothing, unlike things she’s done in the past. She’s seen it all and it could have gone far, far worse.

She’s thankfully pulled from her thoughts from the sound of light footsteps coming towards them. She lifts her gaze back off of the same tile from earlier and looks up to meet the dark, worried eyes of her girlfriend. 

She goes to greet her, standing up when her knees buckle at the sudden pressure on her damaged foot.

Maria is there within a split second, arm wrapping around her waist to steady her and a hand grasping hers.

Maria’s face is drawn and her jaw tensed.

“You’re hurt,” Maria says bluntly, “I knew something was gonna happen.”

Natasha tries to conjure up a lazy grin, “It’s not that bad, baby. I could’ve got shot.”

Maria’s frown only deepens. Her voice is gruff when she speaks, “Your knees just buckled, Natasha. It looks pretty fucking bad.”

Natasha brushes it off with a shrug. her almost painful grip on Maria’s hand says otherwise.

“No one told me you were hurt, Nat.”

“That’s because it’s nothing more than a scratch.”

“You were caught by an explosion. You were shot at. You’re bleeding!” Maria throws one of her hands up in frustration even though the other is still holding Natasha up. “It is _definitely_ not ‘ _just a scratch’_!”

Natasha shakes her head, “Yes, _but I’m fine_.”

“You’re clearly not, Nat.”

“Yes. I am! Barton tell her!”

They both turn to look at Clint who’s staring at them with wide eyes. He shakes his head wildly. Hands up, he says,“Nope. No can do, man. Don’t get me involved in this - Hill scares me.” 

Maria levels her gaze back on Natasha. Natasha wants to shrink back away from the worry and affection and annoyance in her girlfriend's gaze but forces herself to meet it head on.

“You need actual medical attention.” 

Natasha is very good at arguing so she does the obvious thing and ignores that.

“I got some on the Quinjet. I’m fine, Maria.”

“Like shit you are! You can’t even stand up.” Natasha watches as her girlfriend closes her eyes and rubs her temple. She’s still clearly tired. The dark circles from earlier are there and her shoulders are tensed. She can’t help but feel guilty for worrying her, especially so late at night.

They stand in a tense silence in the harshly lit hallway, Maria still supporting Natasha around her waist. It feels like an eternity before the strained atmosphere is broken.

Maria starts again, her voice carefully neutral, “Look, Nat.” A deep breath. “You’re hurt. No. Don’t deny it, you are. The mission went to shit and it shouldn’t have and you got hit.”

Natasha goes to speak again but is silenced by the hand Maria lifts, “You. Are. Hurt. You’re not invincible so you have a choice.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow and glances over to Clint who is desperately trying to blend into the wall. “What choice do I have Deputy Director Hill?” She says, voice coy.

Maria simply looks her straight in the eye, a smile tugging at her lips. “You're actually going to speak to the medical staff and you’re going to get your injuries fully looked at. Fully. Then, and only then, you’re going to get a car to the apartment which is where you’re going to be staying until your ankle is fully healed.”

Maria smiles fully then, bright and slightly terrifying. “Those are orders. Fail to comply and I’ll report you for insubordination and lack of following instructions. The choice is yours- follow them or don’t.” 

Behind her, she can hear Clint trying to slowly shuffle away but she pays him no mind. She only has eyes for the woman in front of her.

She hobbles forwards with Maria’s help, extra mindful of her ankle. “You’re good, Hill. I’ll give you that.”

“I was made Deputy Director for a reason, Romanoff.”

With a look towards Clint and his stupid face, Natasha says, “Yeah, ok. I’ll give you that. You gotta send for a car though.”

Natasha has seen Maria’s face do a lot of things. She thinks smug might be one of her favourites. Not that she’d tell anyone. They might think she’s starting to go soft.

-

The SHIELD car pulls up outside of the tall block of apartments that she and Maria call home. The brickwork is slightly cracked and there’s a cascade of ivy winding its way around the windows. An empty, crushed can sits hidden behind a particularly full area of leaves.

She gingerly pushes herself out of the car, grabbing onto the hand that Maria offers but lets it go once she’s fully out. She doesn’t miss the fondly exasperated look that Maria gives her but she does choose to ignore it.

One foot in front of the other, with her shoulders straight, she manages to make her way through the doors and to the elevator. Maria hovers next to her the entire time, one hand outstretched towards her but she doesn’t touch. Knows that Natasha needs to do it herself even if it hurts her more.

The exertion of keeping herself standing slowly becomes too much but her pride keeps her stood up. She can’t help but release the sigh of relief when the metal doors finally swing open and she and Maria enter.

It takes them twice as long, as usual, to finally get to their apartment, her wounded ankle slowing her down more than she’s comfortable with. Maria unlocks the door and ushers her in and Natasha lets out a breath she didn’t know she’s holding.

When the door finally slams shut behind them, her knees buckle again, muscles tremoring from the pain and the effort. 

She’d done as Maria had ‘asked’. She’d gone to medical, she’d had her injuries looked at and they’d done as good of a job as possible.

It still hurts like a bitch though.

She goes down, expecting to greet the hardwood floor with a nice ol’ face hug when strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her back up.

She turns around to look into the eyes of her girlfriend. She doesn’t thank her but Maria knows her well enough to know she’s thinking it. 

Maria just gives her a wink in response then moves them over towards the sofa, carrying more of Natasha’s weight than she’s completely comfortable with. Maria can apparently read minds because the scowl and the push onto the couch she receives makes her shut up.

“You going back to work now?” She says, knowing that Fury would expect the paperwork by the morning. She does her best to not let any bitterness seep into her voice.

Maria clears her throat, her eyebrows drawn together. “No…” She says slowly, “Fury’s allowed me to have the night off.”

“Slacking already Deputy Director?” she says with a smirk, attempting to conceal the hope blossoming in her chest.

“It’s not slacking when it’s authorised, Romanoff.” She says it with her nose in the air but the soft, gentle smile she gives her makes her feel as if she’s being looked through.

That’s what they all say.” She huffs a laugh before trailing off. “You didn’t have to take time off to babysit me, Maria.” Natasha tries to say it in the same joking tone but even to her ears, it sounds bitter and a bit… sad.

Maria raises a hand to stroke Natasha's face, ”Not babysitting,” she promises, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her face. “Fury didn’t give me a choice anyway.”

“That is such bullshit!” Natasha bursts out but the crinkles around her eyes give her away.

“You’re right. There’s nowhere else I’d be right now.” Maria looks her dead in the eyes, from where she’s still stood over the sofa, scrutinizing her, “Stay.” 

If Natasha were anyone else she’d know better than to mess with the commanding tone.

She isn’t though.

“What? You gonna make me?” Her mouth curves into a smile, biting on her bottom lip.

Maria’s eyes dip down and then back up before she advances on Natasha.

She stops when there’s no room for Jesus and leans down, eyes twinkling. “Yes,” she says, a grin spreading across her face.

Natasha leans in and Maria meets her halfway then pulls back enough that their lips don’t touch. She feels the smile more than sees it and leans into the hand that Maria wraps around the base of her skull. She’s close enough that Natasha can make out the green flecks in Maria’s dark eyes. 

Natasha’s eyes slip closed, waiting for Maria to bridge the gap when suddenly a large weight falls into her lap. She looks down to see Liho staring at her with wide eyes. The little black cat mewls pitifully and flops onto her back, batting at her with fluffy paws.

She looks over to find Maria now leaning against the wall, tears of mirth in her eyes as she dramatically clutches at her chest.

Natasha scowls at the asshole she calls her girlfriend whilst she strokes Liho’s soft tummy

“Seriously? Cat-on-lap is your master plan to make me stay put?”

“Oh, yes. I am _completely_ serious.” Maria replies in between snorts of laughter. “That, Romanoff, is payback for making me lose my shit worrying about you.”

The air gets sucked out of the room and the guilt she felt earlier comes crashing back.

“I didn’t- I didn't mean to make you worry,” Natasha says, her voice low, “I didn’t get hurt that bad.”

Maria deflates against the wall, “I know that, Nat. There wasn’t-” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “There wasn't any news on you! I just, just over thought it all.” 

Natasha smiles sadly at her, “You are pretty good at that.”

“Alright then, you priss.” A startled laugh escaping. Just like that the sombre tone leaves the room. Maria pushes off of the wall, lightly smacking the back of Natasha’s head. 

“Hey! I’m wounded. I’m in pain.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Maria mumbles under her breath as she walks into the adjoining kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to.”

Natasha huffs but ultimately ignores her as she settles back into the couch. She grabs the soft throw blanket from the back over the sofa and throws it over herself and Liho. She strokes the soft fur on Liho’s ears and lets herself just breathe, listening to the sounds of Maria puttering about in the kitchen and Liho’s purrs. 

“You’re a good girl, yes you are, _milaya_.”

“The little she-devil can’t understand you, y’know.” She can hear Maria behind her, rummaging through the cupboards and the small ‘aha!’ when she locates what she wanted.

“She’s not a she-devil, she's my baby,” she replies, idly running her fingers over black fur, ‘And anyway,” she says, turning around and grabbing the remote, “That’s what they say about me.”

Maria pauses in her steps towards their bedroom, diverting her course to press a kiss to Natasha’s hair. “Well… They do say that pets take after their owners.”

She slips away quickly, opening the bedroom door with a laugh as she dodges Natasha’s halfhearted swat.

She lets out an ungodly squawk as she nearly trips over the cat toy laying on the floor outside the door, decidedly un-graceful for a trained covert operative. 

“Serves you right, babe. Yes it does, doesn't it baby girl. Yes, yes it do.”

“What? Oh, you're talking to your little devil. Why am I not shocked?”

-

Maria joins her on the couch fifteen minutes later, grabbing her concoctions from the kitchen before sinking down next to her. She passes Natasha a mug and settles two bowls down on their glass coffee table.

Natasha thanks her with a swift kiss to her cheek before taking a sip. The warm, mellow taste of coffee spreads over her tongue and she smiles. She swipes her thumb across her lip, removing the coffee there.

“Thank you,” she says, taking another drink.

Maria just smiles at her, soft and inviting, “It’s not a problem. There’s food as well,” she says, gesturing to the bowls on the table.

Natasha raises an eyebrow at the woman in front of her, eyes moving from the bowl then back to Maria.

She leans to place her mug on the table and to pick up her bowl and the fork, “Is this going to poison me?” she jokes.

“Oh har har, hilarious - you’re _so_ funny.” Maria’s nose scrunches as she starts to prod her fork into her own bowl.

“Maybe it’s payback,” Natasha shrugs and carefully doesn’t mention the time Maria made cookies and mixed up the salt and the sugar.

Maria scoffs at that, “Isn’t that more your style?”

Natasha thinks about that for a moment, before nodding. “You might be right about that. This is good though,” She says, voice muffled by the food in her mouth.

“Of course I am and of course it is. But thank you.” She turns back to her own food. Natasha nods, thinking she’ll leave it there.

“I'm not the one who managed to set the fire alarm off three separate times, however.”

Groaning and flopping back against the sofa, Natasha brandishes her fork like a weapon, “Don’t even go there.”

Maria looks unimpressed by her threat, even though they both know Natasha could kill someone with less than a fork.

-

Rain has started to fall outside by the time Maria and Natasha finish their food and decide to watch the rom-com Natasha had requested. It hits the windows gently, droplets cascading down the glass. Maria pays more attention to this than she does the movie, entranced by the gentle path they take. Inside, the apartment’s warm and cosy, lit up with the light of the TV and she and Natasha are snug under a blanket. They sit there together for a while, listening to the gentle thud of rain and the faint hum of the tv merging together.

It’s quiet outside tonight, Maria notices partway through the film. She turns to tell Natasha when she stops. Her girlfriend is asleep, head thrown back against the back sofa, the red of her hair spilling around her like blood. Liho is curled into a ball on top of the blankets, purring softly.

Maria smiles a secret smile, one not meant for others eyes, reaching out to trace the bridge of Natasha’s nose. Gradually, one green eye opens and peers at her blearily. She watches fondly as Natasha rubs her eyes and yawns. 

“What’s up?” Natasha asks or at least tries to, her yawn merging the words into ‘wassup’.

Maria smiles at her again, running her hand through the fiery locks of her girlfriend's hair.

Playing idly with a strand, she says, “I think, maybe, you need to turn in.” 

Natasha moves her head in what could have been a nod. “Mhmm, maybe,” she says, her eyes fluttering shut again. “Maybe. Yeah.” Her words are slurring together and she makes no attempt at getting up, simply turning her head and snuggling further into the couch.

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” Maria says, prodding Natasha in the forehead lightly.

“I’m not a ‘sleepy head’. You’re making me sound like I’m a little kid. I’m a hardened assassin, not a child.” Maria can only make out two green slits over the top of the cover which she thinks ruins the deadly glare she’s surely being given.

Leaning back with a smug smile, Maria folds her arms across her chest. “If you’re not a little kid then why are you pouting?”

Natasha shoots up, with an indignant, “I am _so_ not pouting!”

Liho yowls angrily and hops down, slipping through their bedroom door. Devil cat, Maria thinks, probably about to sleep on her pillow.

“Yes, you are!” Maria insists, a laugh escaping from her mouth. 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Shut up!” Natasha laughs, throwing a pillow at Maria, “You are such a dick!”

Grinning back, Maria catches the pillow and tucks it onto her lap. The tension in Natasha’s shoulders loosens and her smile tugs on Maria’s heartstrings. It all becomes quieter for a moment, the TV's noise becomes background and even the storm outside becomes softer. For a moment, they both just stare at each other, drawn together by an invisible line, finding themselves unable to turn their gazes away. 

Maria breaks the eye contact first, slipping away like water between fingers. She turns her head towards the window, eyes tracing the rain falling down the glass. She can feel the weight of Natasha’s gaze on her skin.

Rubbing tired fingers over her eyes, Maria stands up.“C’mon Nat, you need to get to bed,” she sighs, “It’s been one hell of a day and you look dead on your feet.”

Natasha doesn’t respond for a moment, sitting still although her fingers toy with the blanket. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Natasha says, obviously coming to a conclusion. Her fingers continue their path along the blanket, rubbing and pulling at it. It’s Natasha’s way of steeling herself - grounding herself by pulling strength from the inanimate.

Eyebrows drawing together, Maria asks, “Like what?” 

“Like you-,” Natasha breaks off, running her hand across her face and rubbing at an eyebrow,” Like you think I’m gonna fall apart, I guess. I won’t. I’m fine.” 

“Nat...” Maria says hesitantly, letting out a breath as she lets herself sink back down onto the sofa.

Natasha simply shakes her head, red hair flying about. “Honestly, I’m fine.” Her tone is reassuring and kind but the set of her shoulders and the drooping of her eyelids says something different.

Maria doesn’t know what else to do or how to make Natasha understand the terror that had filled her bones. She settles on reaching out and grasping one of Natasha’s hands in her own. “You were caught in an explosion,” she says, fingers running across bandages that reminded her too much of how she could’ve lost her. “You were shot at.”

The smile she gets in return is cocky and self-assured, “I get shot at all the time - perk of the job.” Natasha says dismissively, one shoulder drawn up.

Maria doesn’t need to say anything for the cocky smile to slip and another more tentative one to slip into place.

The hand in Maria’s tightens. “I’m fine, honestly. I’m fine.” Natasha says, voice as tentative as her smile.

Quiet fills the room again, circling around the two women on the couch.

Pulling one of her hands away, Maria turns away, rubbing at her eyes. “Why won’t you-” she cuts off, staring at the ground, “Why won’t you just- just let it sink in that you’re not unbreakable?” She trains her gaze on Natasha.

“I’m fine,” Natasha says, refusing to look her in the eye.

Sitting up again fully, Maria shuffles closer to her girlfriend. Reaching up carefully, so as not to startle her, she turns her face towards her, forcing her to look her in the eye. Pleadingly, she says, “Nat, please. You were burnt! It could’ve-” She swallows around a lump in her throat, ”-been really serious.”

Natasha continues to say nothing, silent and unmoving. She looks into Maria’s eyes but her gaze is unseeing. Maria would like nothing more than to shake her around a bit, get her to see. 

“I was scared,” Maria says.

No response.

“I could’ve lost you.” She says.

Still no response. 

“Goddamnit, Nat! Why won’t you answer me!” Her throat feels tight and she can hear how raspy it is. How loud it is in the stillness of the room. “I was, God! I was so scared, Nat. So scared. And you won’t- won’t you just look at me? _Please?_ ” 

She’s not sure why she’s begging. Usually, she gets up and walks off, too stubborn to back down and be ignored but she’s fed up. Natasha avoids this conversation but they have to have it. Has to acknowledge the danger of their jobs. Has to know that she’s not unbreakable.

Finally, finally, Natasha looks at her, takes in the hands on her face and how her own tremble.

“Why do you care so much?” Her voice is quiet but there’s an unmistakable tremble lacing through it.

Maria has to laugh at that. “Because I love you, you idiot! I love you,” she trails off slightly. After all their years together, Natasha still has trouble believing she’s capable of love let alone capable of being loved. Sighing, Maria rubs her thumb gently across Natasha’s cheek. “We had no response from you. No one had seen you. You could’ve- could’ve been gone and then what would I do?”

Shoulders slumping, Natasha reaches up to grasp her wrist, “Maria… come on.”

“No, Nat. We can’t keep glossing over it. Not this time.” She hears her own voice break but she has to continue, has to make her hear, “Please not this time.”

“Yeah. I know.” Natasha’s voice is heavy and tight, like this pains her.

Finally relinquishing her grasp on Natasha’s face she says, “You won’t let yourself think about the possibility of what could happen. Our work is dangerous and you know it.”

“Yeah.”

“We get hurt all the time.”

Natasha nods, voice rough, “Yeah, we do.”

“It could happen and you know it-” 

“No! God, don’t talk like that.” Natasha interrupts.

“Accept it, Nat! We’re not civilians! We’re agents!” Maria snaps, hands braced against her thighs. “The thought of anything serious happening to you, I- God, it fucking terrifies me. You’re everything I have.”

Natasha shakes her head intently, “No. No, you have more than me,” She rubs a hand across her upper arm in a surprisingly vulnerable gesture, “You have your work. SHIELD. Fury. You could carry on. You’re strong. Strongest person I know.” 

Maria studies the woman across from her. Such a paradox; strong and vulnerable, deadly but gentle. Maria knew everything she’s capable of, has seen it firsthand but knows that she could never be afraid of her. 

She doesn’t want to keep arguing, doesn’t want to bring attention to the cracks but she knows she has to. “Please let yourself admit when you’re hurt then? If not to me, at least to yourself.” 

Natasha smiles a sad smile, one full of pain but also humour. “I was raised to be unbreakable, to be unstoppable.”

Maria knows this. Knows the cruel upbringing her girlfriend was subjected to. Knows what they forced her to be and how hard she fights to not be the weapon they made her. 

Natasha shuffles a bit on the couch, “I don’t like accepting the fact that with one wrong move everything I’ve found could…” She trails off, staring at the wall, “I don’t want to accept that I could lose you. I know how dangerous what we do is. I’m reminded every time I find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. But it’s easier - Less painful, I guess,” She laughs brokenly, “To not think about what could happen.”

Maria nods, moving closer on the couch until she can wrap her arm around Natasha and pull her close. She rubs her hand up and down her side, “But at least you know that if it’s a gun, you can take them on.”

That makes Natasha press a laugh into the skin of Maria’s shoulder. She turns her head slightly to make her words understandable, “We’ll be alright, won’t we? No matter what happens?”

Maria presses a soft smile into Natasha’s hair, “We will be if you actually recognise the fact that you have second-degree burns right now and that when whatever drugs they gave you wear off, you’re gonna be in agony.” She laughs, ”If I don’t kill you for saying you’re fine when you’re not then yeah, we’ll be alright.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Natasha doesn’t have to explain what for, Maria understands. She settles with a quiet, “So am I.” 

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other for a while although neither would be able to tell you how long. Eventually, after Natasha yawns so loud that her jaw cracks, Maria presses a kiss to Natasha’s forehead saying, “Now, will you admit defeat and actually acknowledge how tired you are?”

In response, she gets a trademark cheeky smile, one reserved entirely for her, “Depends. What do I get if I do?”

Maria leans forwards, a lecherous smile gracing her features. She leans closer until her lips hover over Natasha’s, “A good night’s sleep for one.”

Natasha laughs and pushes her away. She gets up, graceful even half-asleep, and lays a gentle hand on the side of Maria’s face.

“Maria?”

“Mm?” Maria responds, focused more on staring dopily at her girlfriend.

“I love you too.” And a sweet smile that still made Maria’s heart flutter whenever it’s aimed at her.

Smiling back, she says, “Go to bed, Nat. I’m gonna lock up.”

Leaning down, Natasha pressed a sweet kiss to her lips before resting her forehead against Maria’s for a moment. “M’kay,” She murmured, pressing a final kiss to her lips, ”Love you.”

“Love you too.“

**Author's Note:**

> Russian petname Nat uses for Liho is 'milaya' which means sweetie
> 
> -
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed and if you did, comments and kudos make my day!
> 
> Feel free to send me asks on my tumblr (same name) with prompts! Thank you so much!


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